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Saturday, June 10—Yountville, California
I take another sip of wine from my chilled glass. “This tastes wonderful!” I’m having dinner with Jake in the cutest bistro in the core of the Napa Valley. We’re dining outside with a view of the sun setting over the beautiful vineyards below us. The atmosphere couldn’t be more surreal.
“I’m glad to see it’s not just a fancy name,” Jake says.
“A fancy name? What do you mean?”
“When Robert Mondavi created the Fumé Blanc, he did it because he was sure he’d made a wonderful wine, and since Sauvignon Blanc had a bad reputation at the time, he changed the name. I was curious to try it after hearing the story. Good to know it’s not just an average wine with an expensive name.”
“Definitely not average. This place is too beautiful to produce average wines.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to g—” Jake stops and looks at me, embarrassed.
“Get married here?” I finish the sentence for him.
He nods.
A server arrives to take our orders, interrupting the tense moment. Once he’s gone, I resume the conversation.
“Should we leave the awkward topics for after the appetizers, or rip the Band-Aid?”
“I’m a doctor; my professional opinion is to rip the Band-Aid.”
“Rip it is. I’m sure we both have so many questions… how about we take turns?”
“Ladies first,” Jake replies with a dashing smile.
“How long have you been with…?”
“Sharon, her name’s Sharon.”
Oh, what a pretty name. “So, how long have you been with Sharon?”
“Two years, we’ve been engaged for one.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“I thought I was. I wouldn’t have proposed to her otherwise. But I always knew she was second best.” He gives me a long stare, and my stomach does weird things in response. “I care for Sharon, and I’m sorry I just broke her heart in a horrible way. She probably hates me right now. But it was the only thing to do. It’s probably better it happened today than getting a divorce later.”
“So you don’t—”
“I thought it was my turn now.”
“Yeah, it is. Go ahead.”
“Are you moving to California?”
“Oh, wow.” I should’ve remembered that about Jake. He likes direct questions. “I haven’t planned anything yet. This morning I didn’t even know if I was flying here or going to Amelia’s wedding instead. But as I said, I don’t care where I live. I could pass the bar here. It’d take me a while—I hear it’s tough in California, but why not? Would you want me to move here?”
“So you don’t care about your job anymore?”
“It’s not that I don’t care about my job. But I’ve had time to put things into perspective. I’m not an idealist kid freshly out of college who thinks she’ll conquer the world. I love what I do, I’m great at it, and winning a case is still better than sex sometimes.”
Jake raises a skeptical eyebrow at this.
“But in the end, a job is just that: a job. A job doesn’t hug you when you come home at night, a job doesn’t kiss you goodnight, and a job doesn’t tell you about the Fumé Blancs of the world…”
“Oh, I see, so you want me only for my wine expertise,” Jake teases.
Our orders arrive, and we eat in silence for a while. When I can’t stand it anymore, I look up at him.
“My turn again.” I take a deep breath and fire the question I’ve been burning to ask for three years. “Why did you care more about your job than you did about me—about us?”
“I never cared about my career more than I did about you. I just…” He pauses and stares at the sky for a long time before focusing his gray eyes back on me. “I took you for granted. I never thought you’d leave. And when you did… I knew it was wrong to expect you’d always put my needs and my job first. I knew it was my turn to give up something. I would’ve left. For you, of course I would have. You never gave me that chance. You just disappeared…”
“You knew where I was.”
“Yes, I knew. But you completely cutting me out of your life wasn’t exactly encouraging! And… I was mad at you for leaving and never looking back.”
The conversation’s getting heated; I try to smooth the tones. “So, basically, we’ve both just been very proud and very stupid.”
I smile nervously. His jaw relaxes, and he smiles back.
“You haven’t answered my question,” I say.
“What question?”
“Would you want me to move here?”
“No,” he replies, decisively.
Oh. My hearts falls into the pit of my stomach.
“It’s my turn to haul my ass to where you are,” Jake adds.
My heart is immediately back in my chest and pulsating at a crazy tempo. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?” Jake flashes me a wicked lopsided grin. It makes him look like the boy I fell in love with so many years ago. Besides my heart racing, now there’s some fluttering in my belly too.
“That you’re moving to London?” I ask tentatively.
He winks at me before taking a sip of wine. “The London Clinic contacted me about a research job opportunity a while ago. I didn’t give it much thought at the time. But now, it feels almost like it was destiny.”
“It does. It’d be so perfect! You could move in with me—I’m kicking out my roommate from hell in two weeks when her sublease expires. I’ve already given her notice. You could move right in.” I stop abruptly and blush bright red. “If that’s what you want… if it’s too much, too soon.” I’m babbling. “If you need some space to… I don’t know. What’s the recovery protocol after a broken engagement?”
Jake throws his head back and roars with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head. “I’d forgotten…”
“What?”
“What it’s like to be around you… how cute you are… how much…” he stops.
“How much w-what?”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “How much I love you.”
Eeeeeeeeee. I could die happy now. Jake’s stare on me is so intense it fries my brain.
“I love you too. So, so much. I’m so sorry I’ve waited this long to come tell you… we wasted so much time…”
“We’re not going to waste another day. I’d be happy to move in with you.”
I beam at him; I’ve never been this happy.
“So you’re not regretting your decision, not even a little?”
“No. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused…”
“Me too,” I interrupt him.
“But I couldn’t stay. You are who I want. You always have been…”
Unfortunately, my phone rings at this point, interrupting Jake.
“It’s my sister,” I say. “Do you mind if I pick up? She calls so rarely; it could be important.”
“Say hello to her from me.”
I mouth “thank you” and slide my finger on the screen to answer.
“Hello.”
“Is it true?” my sister asks.
“And hi to you too. Is what true?”
“Did you crash Jake’s wedding?”
My eyes widen. “How do you know about that?”
“Gossip travels fast. So, is it true?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She whoops so loudly I have to distance the phone from my ear.
“Are you with him now?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, am I interrupting something?”
“Yes, we’re having dinner.”
“I’ll let you get back to your dinner and report to Mom and Dad that you’re fine. But call me back soon and let me know if you can spare two days to come down to San Diego since you’re already in Cali. I’d love to see you.”
“I’ll see what I can do. My card’s sort of maxed out at the moment, but the balance should refresh in a few days. Now I need to sort out what…” I peek at Jake from under my brows. “What my next steps are going to be.”
“All right, I’ll leave you to your sorting. Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That amounts to more or less nothing.”
“That’s why I said it. Bye, bye. Love yah, and Jake too.”
“Same here. Bye.” I end the call.
“So, where were we?” Jake asks.
“Aw, let me see… You were telling me how I was your one and only…”
A ringtone interrupts us again. It’s Jake’s phone this time. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID. “It’s my mom. I should probably take this. She’s going to be worried sick.”
He stands up and says “Hello” into the phone, then walks a few steps away—enough for me not to be able to hear what he’s saying. He scratches his head as he talks to his mom. After a few minutes, he’s back.
“She wants to talk to you.” Jake hands me the phone as he sits down at the table.
I take it with shaking, clammy hands.
“H-hello?”
“Hello, Gemma, my dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Wilder.”
“Jake’s my eldest son, and he was getting married today.”
“Mrs. Wilder, I’m sorry for…”
“No need to be,” she cuts me off. “I always knew you were the right woman for him.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you.”
“But as I said, today was Jake’s wedding day…Just know I expect to have grandkids sooner rather than later.”
“Aw, well…” I don’t know what to say.
“Have a nice evening, Gemma.”
“Yeah, you too, Mrs. Wilder.”
She hangs up. I stare at Jake, petrified.
“That bad?” he asks. “What did she want to tell you?”
“That she expects grandkids!”
Jake laughs again. “Poor woman, I guess today was quite a shock for her.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Oh, just mundane details.” He waves me off.
“Like what?”
“Like Edward’s going to my house to get all my things before Sharon burns everything.”
I bring my hand to my mouth. “Jake, I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined her life, haven’t I?”
From across the table, Jake takes my hand away from my mouth and into his hands. He brushes his thumbs on my palm in soothing circles. “You didn’t ruin her life. I did. I did it when I proposed to her knowing that deep in my heart she wasn’t the woman I wanted. I did this, not you. In the end, it will be better for Sharon this way. Trust me.”
“I feel horrible to be this happy at someone else’s expense.”
“This one’s on me.”
A server arrives with the check, and I’m grateful for the interruption.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Jake asks.
“No idea. I didn’t book a hotel, I don’t have any money, and the only clean clothes I have left are the ones Edward was able to salvage from the moat.” Jake’s brother was the one who organized our escape from the castle. He retrieved my bag, procured a car, and made sure we made our way out unseen.
Jake chuckles again.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I was supposed to be on my way to Aruba right now and my house is definitely off limits.” I tense again. “But, unlike you, I have a working credit card.” Jake smiles, vanishing my anxiety. “We can check into a hotel.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me jokingly and I blush despite myself.
“I’m not sure I should go to a hotel with you. You look like someone with bad intentions,” I say, standing up.
His eyes darken as he stands next to me. “Do I?” he says innocently.
I melt under his stare. “Let’s go,” I whisper.